Not the Sort
by AllIWannaDo
Summary: Frank Longbottom is not the sort of bloke you date. And Alice most certainly does not like him. Really. So then why, oh why, did she agree to go out with him? Read to find out! [oneshot]


Frank Longbottom is not the sort of bloke you date.

I mean it. Why does everyone insist on trying to set us up? I know I'm not much of a looker, but Frank Longbottom is so far from being boyfriend material that it's almost insulting to think that folks consider us a "match made in heaven."

He's not handsome, or charming, or anything even remotely appealing. He's short and stubby with puppy dog eyes and a crooked smile that just makes you want to giggle. He's cute, I suppose, but not in the way a potential beau should be.

Girls don't promptly faint at the sight of him, nor do they pin him against the wall while he's on his way to class, in the hope that his hormones will kick in and he'll snog them senseless, like I've seen girls do to Sirius Black and James Potter.

Frank Longbottom is not the sort of bloke you date.

He's the sort of bloke you turn to in Charms, when you can't seem to get the spell exactly right. (Frank always gets _everything_ exactly right.) Taking a zero for the day's work would be loads simpler, of course, but why let your grades suffer when all you have to do is toss Frank your most winning smile and ask politely if he'd assist you, knowing full well that he could never refuse?

He's the sort of bloke who doesn't mess around during lessons, but instead takes detailed notes, so that if you ever find yourself dozing off during a particularly boring lecture on the invention of the Remembrall (a device I've become quite familiar with recently), he's the one you borrow from the night before exams.

He's the sort of bloke who inquires about your well-being at least once every five minutes if he suspects you're ill, even if you haven't shown any symptoms yet, just so he can be sure to deliver your homework to you later on, along with a hot cup of soup.

And if you happen to forget your cloak when you're planning on taking a stroll through Hogsmeade in the middle of winter, causing thoughts of frostbite and bronchitis to bounce around in your head, you needn't worry. Frank's got that covered, too. Or, more specifically, he's got his arm draped over you and his heaviest cloak around your shoulders. It's always nice to take a walk with snow fluttering through the air romantically, each snowflake like a tiny angel wing, but take it from me, it's better with company.

Ahem.

Frank Longbottom is still not the sort of bloke you date.

He's the sort of bloke who's always there for you, but in a completely platonic way.

Like that time when I tripped over an untied shoelace and nearly went tumbling over the staircase to my doom.

"All right there, Alice?" Frank asked calmly, catching me mid-fall and standing me up straight.

I bent to pick up my books, which had cascaded out of my bag a moment earlier, as I was too preoccupied with the images of my short life that were flashing before my eyes to worry about anything other than my certain death.

"F-fine, thanks," I choked out, still too stunned to say anything more. What do you say to someone who's just saved your life?

He chuckled, probably sensing how shaken I was. "Right. Just promise me one thing, will you?"

I nodded, swinging my bag over my shoulder and coming up to face him.

"Next time, when you're fantasizing about flying away, remember to conjure a broomstick beforehand."

And with that, he winked at me and continued his descent of the staircase, leaving me there to ponder what had just happened.

Not that anything did happen, nor could it ever.

Why, you ask?

Because Frank Longbottom is not the sort of bloke you date.

How many times must I repeat this?

He's the sort of bloke who's well-liked by all, yet has no desire to be popular.

He's not cruel, heartless, or arrogant to the point that you can't stand to be around him, unless you're a member of his fan club (not that he has one).

He isn't a star Quidditch player.

He doesn't go around hexing people for sport, just to prove how superior he is at spell casting. (Why should he, when you can look at him and see?)

He didn't find it the least bit amusing when Peeves splattered my hair with ink, screeching about how no one would notice, seeing as how I'm already invisible. In fact, Frank wouldn't tolerate Peeves one bit after that. Threatened to wring him out like a wet rag and send him crashing into the Bloody Baron if he so much as glanced in my general direction again.

He's the sort of bloke who would notice someone like me. Me, Alice, the Gryffindor Wallflower, whose presence isn't even acknowledged most of the time. I'm not important. I'm not special. I'm not...an exotic beauty. Therefore, it's understandable that my fellow classmates would tend to forget about me every once in a while. All except Frank, that is. He sees me quite clearly. He actually _likes_ my round face, plain brown eyes, and straight, stringy brown hair. I know this, because he told me so just last week.

"I'm a wreck, aren't I?" I groaned, taking a seat beside my good friend, Lily Evans, by the lake.

She waved an impatient hand at me, her mouth crammed with chewed bits of the blueberry muffin she had snagged that morning during breakfast.

"You look fine," she assured me, swallowing.

"Yeah...right," I sighed, turning green with envy as Lily shook out her thick red hair, her emerald eyes gleaming with the reflected sunlight. How is it that someone can be so beautiful, yet so completely oblivious to it?

"I'm serious!" Lily snapped. "You happen to be very pretty."

"But I'm not beautiful."

"Yes you are," someone said from behind me.

I whirled around, coming face to face with none other than Frank Longbottom himself.

Lily wrinkled her nose at the intrusion and went back to her muffin, but I piqued with interest.

"What do you mean?"

He blushed crimson, regretting his words, I think. "Just what I said."

"Oh come on, Frank. You can't possibly have meant that about...me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm plain, plain and boring. Plain brown eyes, plain brown hair, round face, button nose, shy smile..."

"That's exactly it."

I shrugged, willing him to further explain his statement.

"That's what makes you beautiful." He grinned at me discreetly, walking away before I had a chance to respond. Lily huffed about 'rude people who feel the need to constantly weasel their way into private conversations,' but I barely heard her. Someone thought that I was beautiful. Me. Who could believe it?

However, that still doesn't change the fact that Frank Longbottom is _not_ the sort of bloke you date!

And even if he were, which he isn't, it's not like I have feelings for him.

I don't even know him all that well. He's pretty shy, you see, though not to the same extremes as I am. In fact, I've barely spoken to him in all of my years at Hogwarts, save the aforementioned instances. Oh, and perhaps a few other times, when I was feeling down on my luck and a smile from him made it seem as if everything were right with the world, if only for a fleeting moment...

But that's just me being silly.

I do hope we agree by now that Frank Longbottom is not the sort of bloke you date.

So then why, oh why, did I say yes to him when he asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him this weekend? Why, when he surveyed me with those gentle eyes of his did I cave and let out a squeaky, "S-sure"?

Because I've realized something.

Frank Longbottom is not the sort of bloke you _date_...

...he's the sort of bloke you _marry_.

**A/N: Just an idea I had one day. You don't have to like it, but I do hope you'll leave your feedback in the form of a review. I've been working on this for a while now and would like to know how everyone thinks it turned out.**

**And yes, I'm aware that I've been neglecting my Cho fic. I haven't abandoned it, don't worry. Inspiration is just so hard to come by these days...**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Oh, and the characters do not belong to me, in case there was still any doubt.**

**Love,**

**AllIWannaDo**


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